Reborn to Flee My Fiance's Obsession (Fiona and Soren) novel Chapter 283

Neglected 283 Summary

Soren, despite his shallow breath and injury, insists that the task ahead is his responsibility. Fiona reluctantly agrees, handing over the duty to him. As Soren dresses Spencer’s wounds with his own travel-worn tunic, he reflects on the clothes Fiona had saved for him, hinting at deeper connections and unspoken thoughts. The potent ginseng Fiona gave him helps him regain consciousness, but the mention of Prince Zephyr’s name brings a bitter tension between them.

The conversation reveals a complicated past involving Zephyr’s interest in Fiona and the downfall of Ivanna, which Fiona escaped by fleeing to Southmere. Soren learns that Fiona’s past life also involved Southmere, where she unknowingly saved him. Despite the hardships, Fiona risked her safety to save Soren in this life, deepening their bond. Soren regrets his delayed arrival and the lost pouch he cherished, symbolizing the fragile thread keeping him alive.

They acknowledge the looming threat of Zephyr, with Fiona planning to wait for Soren’s return to Jexburgh before making her next move, hoping to leverage court politics against Zephyr. Soren recalls Fiona’s previous solution—marrying him—as a symbol of gratitude and debt, which stirs a rare lightness in his heart. He promises protection, assuring Fiona that with him there, she need not fear Zephyr.

The chapter closes with the revelation that Spencer was assigned by the Emperor to watch over Soren, but with Spencer’s death, others will be sent to find him. Fiona suspects deeper motives behind the Emperor’s decisions. Soren also knows Tristan will hunt him, driven by ambition within the Zonfrillo family. Despite the tension and danger, Fiona’s gentle touch calms Soren, momentarily easing the darkness within him.

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Chapter 283: Into The Hazard

Soren shook his head, his breath shallow but resolute, refusing to yield. “It’s nothing,” he insisted quietly.

Fiona’s shoulders tensed noticeably. After a brief pause, she spoke softly, almost reluctantly, “If you insist, Lord Soren, then the task is yours.”

A sudden question flickered through Soren’s mind as he pulled on the clean clothes Fiona had carefully folded for him. For whom else had she been saving garments of this size and style? The thought lingered, unspoken but persistent.

He dressed Spencer in his own well-worn, travel-stained tunic. The fabric strained against the stitches, and fresh blood seeped through the gauze beneath. Once finished, Soren sank against the cold wall, drawing in slow, shallow breaths, waiting for the dizziness to subside and the spinning of the room to still.

“That ginseng you gave me… it was potent,” Soren murmured at last. Without it, he doubted he would have regained consciousness so quickly.

Fiona replied softly, “It was merely a gift. I pretended to be ill to leave Jexburgh, and just before I left, Prince Zephyr gave me that root.”

The moment Zephyr’s name was mentioned, the comforting warmth of the herb seemed to evaporate, leaving a bitter aftertaste in the air.

Soren’s eyes narrowed, darkening with suspicion. Rumors of Zephyr’s interest in Fiona stirred uneasily behind his half-lidded gaze.

“While I was stationed in Broadmoor, I heard that Zephyr intended to ask for your hand,” Soren said quietly, his voice low and sudden.

Fiona blinked at his bluntness but offered no denial.

“Ivanna’s downfall was no accident,” Soren added, his words sharp and cold as steel.

“I know. That’s why I fled to Southmere—to escape him—and in doing so, I was able to save you,” she replied gently.

“In your previous life, did you come to Southmere because of Zephyr as well?” he asked, curiosity threading through his tone.

“In that life, Father was demoted, and Mother, wounded by their rift, brought me here to recover. I never realized that the injured man I rescued was you,” Fiona said cautiously, choosing her words to keep a polite distance between them.

But inside, her emotions were tangled and conflicted. She was grateful that in that other life, Soren had married her to free her from Zephyr’s grasp. Yet the bitterness of that marriage remained, raw and unhealed.

“Still, in this life, knowing everything, you risked yourself to save me,” Soren said, astonishment mixed with something softer threading through his pain.

“At first, I had no idea the man I was helping was you, Lord Soren,” Fiona admitted.

“You only turned back after learning who I was. I suppose the embroilment is unavoidable now,” Soren said, a faint smile touching his lips.

The small pouch he carried lay battered and worn, a silent testament to how often he had rolled it between his fingers.

Fiona said nothing.

“I should have reached Southmere sooner,” Soren confessed. “I dropped the pouch on the road and spent days searching for it.” He knew that sentimentality could have cost him his life, but even when death brushed past him, he could not let go of the one thread that kept him alive.

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